Can't Look Back (War for Dominance Book 1)

by Chris Kennedy

  “Yes, begone,” replied the leader, and all of the soldiers withdrew their spears.

  The three companions left the entry room. “Was that really necessary?” asked Ghorza.

  “No,” Dantes said with a smile, “it wasn’t. Still, if he’s going to guard the Magisterium, he needs to learn to respect magic.”

  The group went up several levels, the sounds of fighting growing more distinct with every passing floor. As they reached the third level, they heard a resounding crash echo down the corridor. “What was that?” asked John.

  “I don’t know,” replied Dantes. “You two go find the Magistra; I’ll check it out.” He left at a run in the direction of the noise. Ghorza and John went up one more flight of stairs and then down a hall that went in the opposite direction from the way Dantes had gone. Halfway down the corridor they came to a door that was ajar. With a worried look, Ghorza pushed open the door the rest of the way. A young woman could be seen standing next to the Magistra, who lay in a bed along one of the walls of the chamber. The attendant looked up in surprise. Blood covered the bed, the floor, and most of the young woman.

  “Help me!” she called. “The Magistra’s dying!”

  “Magistra!” exclaimed Ghorza, rushing to her side.

  The woman moved to give her room, and Ghorza could see that she was one of the Magisterium’s healers. Up close, the woman was much younger than she originally appeared. She didn’t look like she was old enough to have completed the initial healer’s training yet, much less be proficient enough to cure whatever had happened to the Magistra. “I can’t save her!” the woman said, falling into hysterics. “You’ve got to do something!” She began sobbing.

  “What happened?” asked Ghorza.

  Hearing Ghorza’s voice, the Magistra’s eyes fluttered open. She reached out for Ghorza and pulled her close. “Don’t have...much time,” she gasped. “Did...find Dantes?”

  “Yes,” Ghorza replied. “I brought him back with me. We’ll get you out of here and to a healer.”

  “Too late...for me,” the Magistra said. “Must find...Milos. Crown...Most important.”

  “We will find him,” Ghorza said. “Also, the human may be of more help than we thought. He is able to cast at least three types of spells.”

  The Magistra’s eyes opened wider and her grip tightened on Ghorza’s tunic. “Three? Forget Milos!” she forced out with a new determination. “Must take him...Mountain of Frost. More important. Prophecy...” Her grip faltered and she fell back to the bed.

  Ghorza looked up to see Dantes run into the room. He had been fighting; steam was rising from his head and shoulders. “We’ve got to get her out of here,” he said. “They’re close. Too close.”

  “She can’t be moved,” Ghorza and the woman said together. “She won’t survive it,” added the healer.

  “She won’t survive what?” asked a high clear voice from the doorway. “There’s not going to be any dying here today, at least not while I’m around.”

  John’s head spun around to see the morning sun burst forth from the doorway. As the brilliant object entered the room, John saw that it was a woman...the most beautiful woman he had ever seen...dressed in plate mail that reflected every bit of light in the room with a crimson overtone. Her silver hair hung down below her metal collar, almost appearing to blow in some non-existent wind. The woman was a knight, and she was stunning. And she was good. She was very good.

  “Damn,” Dantes said, having to avert his eyes. The evil part that he kept locked up inside found it very hard to look at her.

  John knew what Dantes meant. She radiated good, but not in the same way the teufling at the cafe had given off evil earlier. Where evil seemed to cling to the devil like black oil that had a hard time separating itself from him, good emanated from the knight like a sunburst, cleansing the air around her. Her faith was strong, and that belief radiated from her in every direction.

  As she crossed the room, John could see that her initial appearance was only an illusion. She was a mess, and appeared to have been in some heavy fighting. The silver armor that reflected the light with a red hue was in fact covered in at least as much blood as coated the Magistra’s bed. In the case of the paladin, though, none of it appeared to be hers. She was strong and confident as she strode across the room to where the Magistra lay.

  It was only then that John noticed her companion, a man wearing a rough brown woolen robe, who trailed behind her like the morning followed the sun. His head bent, the priest followed the paladin to the bed and spread his hands out over the Magistra.

  “She is in grave danger,” said the robed man in a soft voice. The emptiness in his voice spoke volumes about what he had already experienced that day. “She will die without aid and comfort,” he continued, “and alas, I have no more to give. I used all of the healing granted unto me out on the city’s walls. If you have nothing left to give, then I am afraid she is doomed.”

  The young woman stifled a small sob. The cleric had been her last hope of saving the Magistra.

  The paladin nodded in understanding, obviously familiar with what the man said. “Throughout the battle on the walls,” she replied, “I knew that there was something that my god was calling me to do. Something that I needed to save myself for. It is obvious to me that this is the moment.” Looking up to the heavens, she said simply, “In your name,” and laid her hands on the Magistra. Healing emanated outward from her touch, and John could see ripped flesh knit itself together and the Magistra’s breathing ease. “Thank you,” the paladin added as the healing touch receded, leaving the Magistra in a much better condition.

  “Well done,” said the cleric; “you have saved her life.” He turned to the rest of the people in the room. “Her condition is improved; however, she is by no means well. She will not be able to travel far or without aid until she has rested.”

  “We will need to fashion a litter,” said Dantes, looking for poles.

  “We can use the sheets from the bed if we have to,” added the young woman.

  “We just need some poles,” said Ghorza.

  “Excuse me!” interrupted a voice from the bed. Everyone turned to find the Magistra up on an elbow. “I am pretty sure I remember giving you an order, Ghorza. Why are you still here? Oh, I see you found Dantes. Good. Why are you still here too? I’m unconscious for a few minutes and everyone forgets what I told them to do?”

  The cleric stepped in between the Magistra and her charges. “Lady Magistra, you need to lie down,” he said.

  If he hoped to calm her down, it didn’t work. “Ah, Father Telenor, you are here, too,” she said. “Is Lady Ellyn here also? Wonderful. You need to go with Dantes and Ghorza and...John Gratsby. Must...go...Prophecy...” she began weakening again at the same time as the squad of men from the basement burst into the room. They were followed closely by the halfling that John recognized as the one that had initially taken him to meet the Magistra.

  “We must get the Magistra into the tunnels,” said the leader of the soldiers as he came through the door. “The enemy will be here in seconds, not minutes.”

  “I will go...with them,” the Magistra said. “But you must,” she grabbed the paladin’s arm and pulled her closer. “You must go to the Mountain of Frost. Prophecy...Fate of world...” She collapsed onto the bed again.

  “We can’t just leave her here,” said Ghorza.

  “We can and will,” said the paladin. “I do not believe there can be any dispute over what the lady intended. We are to go to the Mountain of Frost, with all due haste. These other men will see to her needs. It is obviously urgent; we must accomplish the task she has given us.”

  “Follow me,” said Dantes. “I know where the mountain is, as well as how to get out of the city. Getting there will not be any fun, but it appears that’s where we are supposed to go, regardless.”

  “Wait...” said the Magistra as they turned to go. She was back on one elbow, her other hand pointing unsteadily at the wall. She waved
her hand and a chest of drawers appeared where she had been pointing. “Take book...in dresser. John...must have it.”

  Ghorza opened the top drawer and removed a large hidebound book from it.

  “What is it?” asked Dantes.

  Ghorza looked up, shock evident on her face. “It’s her spell book.”

  Chapter 23

  Dantes led the group through the tunnel. Compared with the din they experienced on their earlier trip, the relative silence seemed eerie. Only a random shriek every few minutes pierced the muffling nature of the tunnel complex. Lady Ellyn winced every time she heard one. Even in the minimal light, John could see that she wanted to be out among the civilians, saving as many as she could, for as long as she was able.

  After a particularly long scream, Father Telenor put his hand on her arm, offering her the simple comfort of a human touch. It seemed to work...until the next scream.

  After 10 minutes, they arrived at the changeover where they had to go above ground to get to the shed tunnel that would take them back under the wall and out of the city. Dantes led them up from the wine cellar and cracked open the door to leave the cafe. He closed it again quickly when he heard a voice close by. The man’s voice was loud, though, and the group could hear him even with the door shut.

  “All right, me laddies,” it said, “who wants to step up and try out the new points o’ my arrows? They’re not fire, but I’m told that they’ll light you up just as brightly.”

  A chorus of growls answered his questioning.

  “Well now, laddies,” the voice said, “I have to tell you that, while I can usually hold this bow a good long time, I’m a wee bit tired right now, what with all the fighting this morning, so I’m going to be asking you to decide who dies first a little more quickly than normal, if you’d be of such a mind.”

  Lady Ellyn pushed past Dantes toward the door. “I’m out of spells,” Dantes said. “I won’t be able to help much, and we don’t know how many there are.”

  “I care not,” replied Lady Ellyn. “I have listened to these beasts tear apart the people I’ve sworn to protect since the beginning of our journey. If I can help just one person on our way out of this godsforsaken city, I intend to.”

  “M’lady, you know that I am also out of spells, correct?” asked Father Telenor.

  “I do,” replied Lady Ellyn. “Can I still count on you to guard my off side?”

  “Always, m’lady.”

  “Then let us go,” she said. “For the gods of good!” She burst out of the door at a run, with Telenor close by her side. After a moment’s hesitation, the rest of the group followed.

  John trailed the warriors around the corner of the nearest house, and found himself much closer to three large evil-looking creatures than he ever wanted to be. Dark green in color, they each stood over nine feet tall and had some sort of rubbery, moss-covered skin. The fetid stench coming from them threatened to overwhelm him.

  “Trolls,” said Ghorza, coming to a halt. “I hate trolls.”

  “I hate them too,” said Dantes. “Normally they’re a lot of fun to burn. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to do this the hard way, as I’m out of spells.”

  Lady Ellyn hadn’t waited for the rest of the group, and as Ghorza and Dantes continued their advance, she charged up and sliced through the hamstrings of one of the trolls facing the other way. It crumpled, and she continued on to the next one.

  The troll screamed in anger and frustration as it tried to get back up, but was unable. As John watched, the muscles that had been sliced off and left to dangle from the troll’s legs began to heal.

  “Quickly,” said Dantes, “we have to kill it before it regenerates.”

  The scream of the first troll caused the other two trolls to turn and face the new threat. That was all that the person trapped in the corner needed, and he launched an arrow dripping a black liquid. It hit the troll closest to him in the chest, and the wound began hissing. The troll screamed even more loudly than the first one.

  “Can you do something that doesn’t make them scream so much?” asked Dantes as he and Ghorza threw oil onto the troll from bottles they pulled from their packs. “’Ware the arms!” he added to Ghorza. Nine feet tall, the troll had arms that were almost seven feet long, giving it a considerable reach as it continued to flip around.

  Ghorza tried to light the oil, but one of the troll’s arms flicked out and slapped her down, stunned. Seeing the easy prey, Dantes was immediately forgotten by the troll as it pulled itself around toward the semi-conscious half-orc. “Scintilla!” John commanded, sending a spark onto the troll. The oil caught fire, and the troll was covered in flames. It began rolling around, trying to put them out. Ghorza was forgotten as the troll burned to death.

  The third troll was trading blows with Lady Ellyn and Father Telenor. Although the troll could reach much further with its club than the humans’ weapons, it couldn’t attack and defend at the same time. Lady Ellyn was protected from the troll’s attacks by Father Telenor’s shield, though, and she was able to make attacks of her own nearly unhampered. It didn’t come without cost; the troll’s attacks were far stronger than those of a human, and Telenor’s shield was soon shattered. “Can’t hold...much longer, m’lady,” advised Father Telenor. “I’m down to almost splinters as it is.”

  With a massive swipe that the two humans barely ducked under, the troll caught the shield’s iron edge on its club, and it flew out of Telenor’s grasp. The troll roared in satisfaction as the shield went spiraling through the air.

  As the troll celebrated, Lady Ellyn dove forward in a half-roll. She used the momentum of the dive to stand up underneath the troll, and she stabbed upward, transfixing the troll on her blade. The troll’s roar turned into a scream of pain, which ended suddenly as an arrow flew up into its mouth, piercing its brain. The tip of the arrow burst forth from the top of its head and a loud hissing sound could be heard as the acid ate into its skull. The troll toppled to the ground, seemingly in slow motion.

  All of the humanoids turned to the last troll, which had the arrow in its chest. It hadn’t attacked further, as a large brown owl was harassing it, fluttering in and out of its reach. Any time the troll tried to attack the archer, the owl would swoop in and claw the troll’s eyes, momentarily blinding it.

  The archer whistled, and the owl flew up out of the way. The troll reached up to grab it, leaving itself undefended, and another arrow sprouted from its chest. This one found its heart, and the troll’s attacks began to slow. With a groan, it swung one more time at the owl, and then it collapsed to the ground. The owl returned to alight on the archer’s shoulder, nuzzling his cheek and then preening a wing.

  “Many thanks, me lords and ladies,” the archer said, flourishing his hat. John could see that the humanoid was even smaller than he first thought; without the large hat, the archer was barely three and a half feet tall. John thought that the creature looked similar to the fire gnome he had met earlier in the week, with pointed ears and angular facial features, but where Vishdink had been red and gray, the archer was light brown like the trunk of a tree. Complementing this color, the archer had tufts of forest green hair sticking out all over the top of his head, which he quickly covered back up with his hat. The eyes that faced the group were solid black.

  “You’re welcome,” said Dantes, helping Ghorza to her feet. “However, those things were far too loud. We need to leave, now.” He turned toward the shed.

  “Wait!” said the archer. “Do you hear that?”

  Dantes listened but didn’t hear anything other than the sound of combat in the distance. “What do you mean?” he asked. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Aye, laddie, that’s just what I was sayin’,” replied the archer. “While we were tusslin’ with the beasties, I heard the braying o’ worgs.” The tracking abilities of the oversized evil wolves were legendary.

  “I don’t hear them now,” replied Dantes.

  “Aye, and that’s what’s worrying me
,” agreed the archer. “If they’ve gone quiet, they’ve got the scent.” He held up his head and sniffed the air. “They’re here,” he said. “Run!”

  The sounds of running feet and the booming of drums calling the evil creatures to battle could be heard from the street in front of the cafe. The group ran toward the shed and went through the door.

  As they started climbing down into the tunnel, a shout rang out from the yard. The door had been left open in their haste, and they had been spotted. “Climb faster,” Dantes urged. “Go, go, go!” Spurred on by the shout, the rest of the group hurried past him and down the ladder. The last member of the group went down the ladder as the first orc entered the shed. Seeing that everyone else was clear, Dantes dove into the ladder well and fell to the floor of the tunnel 10 feet below. Picking himself up, he ran forward and grabbed the end of a rope hanging 15 feet further into the tunnel. He pulled with all of his infernal might, and ripped out the key stones holding the tunnel’s roof in place. The tunnel collapsed behind them, sealing off their enemies as the first orc started down the ladder.

  Dantes turned around to find everyone staring at him. “Didn’t that hurt?” asked John.

  “Yes, quite a bit,” Dantes replied as dust trickled down all around him. “But it will buy us a little bit of time. Come on; we need to hurry.”

  Chapter 24

  “They escaped into some tunnels and then destroyed the entrance,” reported the troll scout in its deep voice. “We have troops opening it up, but it will be some time.”

  “They are beginning to get on my nerves,” Solim said. He motioned for the troll to return to his duties and turned to his brother. “Did you learn anything from them before their escape?”

  “Yes, Solim. Before she passed out, the Magistra sent them on some sort of quest. She was barely coherent, but she said that they needed to go to the Mountain of Frost for some sort of end-of-the-world prophecy.”